


Everybody Talks

by volchitzaa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Overprotective Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volchitzaa/pseuds/volchitzaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you smell like Derek?"</p><p>Wherein Malia asks a simple question, Lydia answers, and the pack overreacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Talks

**Author's Note:**

> First Teen Wolf fanfic, yay!

"Why do you smell like Derek?"

Lydia barely even paused from the intricate act of reapplying her makeup. Today’s look was a cross between innocent Catholic schoolgirl and bombshell blonde ( _strawberry blonde,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Stiles whispered in her ear), and though it normally took her less than ten minutes to perfect such a look (Lydia Martin was nothing if not efficient), today she wanted to take her time. It wasn’t often she got to tease Malia to the point where it made her growl and flash her fangs at her in public, after all.

When she felt rather than saw the moment when Malia’s pretty little hands changed into claws, Lydia finally took pity on her and relented. “If you must know,” she said with a long suffering sigh, as though Malia was a child that required infinite patience (and she was), “I dropped by the Hale loft this morning to pick up a few things. You know, banshee-werewolf-related things. God forbid The Evil Powers That Be grant us teenagers at Beacon Hills a break.”

Malia growled again, evidently displeased by her answer. “Okay, let me rephrase the question. Why do you smell like Derek  _and_ sex?”

The hand holding Lydia’s Givenchy Noir Couture mascara did not waver. “Don’t look at me like that, Malia,” she said airily as she admired her reflection in the mirror. “I have  _needs.”_

Malia made a half-choked noise at the back of her throat, no doubt trying to adjust to the idea of her friend and her… whatever the fuck Derek Hale was to her (she refused to call him family because the last time she tried that with Peter, look where that got her) hooking up behind everyone’s backs. “You don’t even  _like_ Derek,” she told Lydia almost accusingly.

"Yeah, well, that was before I found out that he could do amazing things with his tongue that -" _  
_

“ _Lydia!”_

Lydia blinked innocently at her. “What?” she said. “You leave hickeys on Stiles’ back every full moon - oh, don’t think I don’t know about that, do you have any idea how annoying it is to sit next to him at History class and hear him whine about it to Scott - but hey, you don’t see me complaining about it.”

Malia made a face at her, but otherwise showed no signs that she was going to let the subject drop. “So, are you, like, his mate now?” she wanted to know.

Lydia’s eyebrows rose to the top of her hairline. “ _Mate?”_ she screeched. “Ex _cuse_  me, I am a fiercely independent woman who just so happens to like fucking emotionally-stunted werewolves in my spare time, but that does not mean that I would allow myself to answer to something as utterly derogatory and barbaric a term as  _mate.”_

"Uhh... I did not understand a single word of what you just said, but…" Malia shrugged. "Okay. Whatever. As long as you’re happy."

Lydia’s lips curved into a pleased smile. But that quickly vanished as soon as she saw Malia tapping on her phone - the very phone that, Lydia was quick to notice,  _she_ had personally bullied Malia into getting just so she’d have someone to call when she was in the mood to go shopping (she loved Kira dearly, she did, but the girl had the tendency of calling her parents every time she made a purchase on her mother’s AmEx, which was kinda depressing). Now, though, Lydia was starting to regret ever introducing Malia to the wonders of technology.

"What are you doing?" she asked her sharply, a terrible sense of foreboding suddenly coming over her. "Malia, if you tell everyone about me and Derek, I swear to god I am going to  _end_ you.”

Malia looked at her, all doe-eyed innocence and reassuring smiles. “Don’t worry, Lydia. I’m not telling everyone. Just Stiles.”

That only made Lydia feel even worse. Telling Stiles was tantamount to sending a live broadcast to the entire world (in fact, she would be extremely surprised if she didn't receive a carefully worded death threat from Cora tomorrow via email), but of course, Malia didn't know that. Malia didn't know a lot of things. 

That didn’t mean that Lydia couldn’t pretend to be mad at her though. She narrowed her eyes at her friend and fixed her with a glare so withering it could have caused massive global climate change. “You know,” she said as she contemplated the advantages of calling the Calaveras and re-introducing them to Malia Tate, “I think I liked you better when you were a coyote.”

 

* * *

 

 

As predicted, it didn’t take long for the entire pack to find out. Kira cornered her first, which was a good thing, because the genuine, warm smile on her face meant that she’d have one less idiot to deal with at school that day.

After offering Lydia her sincerest congratulations, Kira, being the naturally perky kitsune that she was, had proceeded to ramble on about potential double dates - Lydia almost laughed out loud at the idea of Derek going bowling with the gang on Friday ( _like hell) -_ and hey, is dating a older man even considered legal if said older man is a supernatural creature that can shape shift at will now, not that Kira was against it or anything, oh no, and oh, won’t Lydia please be so kind as to give her werewolf sex tips? Not that she and Scott were in trouble or anything. Kira was just genuinely curious about these things.

This last remark was said with a shyness that was so typically Kira, Lydia almost laughed out loud. She smiled, tugged at one of Kira’s braids playfully, and simpered, “Come to my house after school tomorrow and I will teach you my ways, little grasshopper.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next person who approached her was Liam, followed by a rather reluctant-looking Mason who looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. Come to think of it, Lydia thought, Liam was looking downright sulky too, not that she could blame him. They have better things to do than obey the whims of a teenage alpha (and by whims, she meant Scott's persistent need to mother everyone), and they both knew it. She almost felt sorry for them.

"Hello boys," she drawled. "How about we skip the whole counseling session and pretend that you’ve sufficiently done your part in teaching me about the error of my ways?"

Liam shrugged. “Sounds good to me,” he muttered. “Honestly, I don’t even know why Scott wants me to talk to you. It’s not like Derek is a criminal and you can’t take care of yourself.”

Lydia decided at that moment that she liked Liam.

 

* * *

 

When Scott parked himself at the empty seat right next to her five minutes before the bell rang for third period, Lydia couldn't even pretend to be surprised.  _About damn time, McCall._

"Hey, Lydia," he greeted her, trying desperately to sound as casual as he could while pointedly ignoring the agitated noises Stiles was making behind his back.

Lydia rolled her eyes at him. Honestly, someone ought to give the boy lessons in subtlety. He was a fucking  _Alpha,_ for crying out loud.

"What do you want, Scott?"

Scott nervously cleared his throat. "So..." he started to say. "There's this strange rumour going around school today... I'm sure it's nothing, and... god, I feel so silly for even asking, but..."

"Is this the part where you ask me about Derek so you can listen to my heartbeat and know if I'm lying?"

Scott had at least the decency to blush. 

"Well, it's true," Lydia admitted primly as she took out her books and began arranging them methodically on her desk, heedless of the horrified look that flashed across Scott's face at her admission. "Derek and I have decided to embark on a mutually exclusive sexual relationship. He has quite the potential, you know. In fact, if he keeps up the good work for the next two weeks, I might even be forced to manipulate him into asking me out on a real date. Not that it's any of your business, of course."

"Of course it's my business, Lydia. You're pack."

"So's Derek," Lydia helpfully pointed out.

Scott let out a resigned sigh. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I trust Derek with my life. I totally do. But at the same time, it's... you know... it's  _Derek._ How can I not be concerned?"

"It's cute that you care, Scott," Lydia remarked as she patted him fondly on the chest, "but don't worry, Derek and I are going to be fine. Besides, if he ever displeases me or hurts me in any way, I can always lace his coffee with wolfsbane and bury him in a ditch somewhere."

Lydia would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the way Scott's face spasmed at her choice of words. " _God_ , Lydia, you can't just say something like that and expect me to -"

"Scott," she interrupted him, scary bitch face firmly in place, "if you don't stop talking right now, Derek and I are going to have crazy, wild motorcycle sex - I've always wanted to cross that off my bucket list- and,  _oh_... guess who's the only person in Beacon Hills High School with a bike parked right outside campus?"

Scott wisely kept his mouth shut and left her alone after that.

 

* * *

 

 

If only she could say the same thing about Stiles. Truthfully, she'd expected him to be the first one to flip out and start a petition to send her off to the nearest nuthouse (if he so much as suggested Eichen House though, Lydia was going to Molotov cocktail his ass off), but as it turned out, Stiles Stilinski chose to wait until classes were over before he finally deemed it safe enough to talk to her.

She found him leaning against the hood of her car after gym class, a prominent scowl etched on his face.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his rant to begin.

As always, Stiles did not disappoint. "Seriously, Lydia? DEREK HALE?  _DEREK FRICKIN HALE?"_ he all but shouted in her face. If he was a werewolf, he would have growled at her. But as it was, he had to settle for pacing around the parking lot like a crazed drug addict, his hands twitching uselessly at his sides, face an eternal mask of agitation. "Why in the  _holy hell_ would you even consider doing... whatever it is you're doing... with  _him?_  I thought you were allergic to Hales? Look,I get why you might find him attractive - okay, I"m lying, I don't get it - but just because he's some kind of... some kind of weird, evolved Pokemon now doesn't mean he's no longer dangerous, Lydia!"

"Stiles, need I remind you that you're talking to the girl who once dated a murderous lizard and an alpha werewolf?"

He glared at her. "No, you do not get to play the Jackson and Aiden card at me. You're not allowed to."

Lydia pursed her lips and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I can do whatever I want, thank you very much."

"Yeah, but not with  _Derek Hale."_

 _"_ Why not? He entertains me."

Stiles gaped at her. "He... entertains you?" he repeated, sounding faint. "Lydia, if all you want is entertainment, I'd be happy to give you a flying monkey."

"Hmm. Tempting. But no, I'll pass."

"Okay, that's it. I'm taking you to Deaton's," he declared. "This must be some kind of love potion. It has to be. I mean, c'mon, this is Beacon Hills. Something like this had to happen sooner or later, right? I'm willing to bet Deaton knows a cure."

"Trust me, Stiles," Lydia said, "I'm not insane. Or enchanted. Would you like me to prove it by calling Derek right now? I'm sure he would be all too happy to provide a demonstration."

Stiles made a noise that sounded like a cross between a dying animal and a crying infant. "No!" he croaked out. "No demonstrations, okay? Jesus Christ, Lydia." He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled loudly. "So, just to be clear... You're not being forced into this? No blackmail? No 'I will unleash Peter Hale on you if you don't agree' kind of thing?"

Lydia raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at him, as though to say, "What do you think, genius?"

"Okay," Stiles muttered under his breath. "Okay, that's fine. Just checking..." He glanced sideways at her. "It's just... I know things have been hard for you, Lydia. Your previous relationships haven't exactly been..." He sighed. "Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is... I know I'm not a werewolf, but if Derek ever hurts you..."

"You'll what? Run him over with your Jeep?"

 _"_ No, I will find another fucking vengeful spirit to possess me.  _Then_  I'll run him over with my Jeep."

Despite herself, Lydia smiled. It felt good, having a friend like Stiles Stilinski. Teenage ball of sarcasm and pesky detective-in-training though he may be, he does have his sweet moments. She tapped him affectionately on the cheek. "Go home, Stiles," she told him as she moved past him and into her car. "I'll tell Derek you said hi."

"You'll tell him everything I said?"

"Yup," Lydia answered him. "Especially the part where you called him a Pokemon."

Stiles swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Will you also tell him not to...  _oh, I don't know_... kill me?" he asked her somewhat hopefully.

Lydia flashed him one of her rare smiles, the one that showed off all her dimples and make her look more human and less like the goddess that Stiles always thought she was. Then she waved jauntily at him, turned on her ignition, and left him hanging there in the middle of the parking lot, his mouth wide open.

"Hey, wait, where are you going? You can't just leave me out here! Lydia, please tell me you'll rescue me from Derek! You have to -  _Oh my god,_  Lydia! Don't you dare... Wait!  _LYDIAAAA!"_

 

* * *

When she arrived at Derek's loft, she found him patiently waiting for her in his living room (or what could be safely classified as his living room. Seriously, that man needed to hire a decorator). 

"You smell like Stiles," Derek complained, looking slightly disgusted as he watched her take her coat off.

"Well, then, why don't you shut up and do something about it?"

Lydia worked with stunning efficiency until she was left standing in nothing but her underwear. She smiled at the naked look of desire on Derek's face and said, "What are you waiting for, wolf boy? Clothes off. Now."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because even though Stiles and Lydia aren't canon, they have a beautiful friendship and it had to be written. Also, pack shenanigans! :)


End file.
